


she’s the giggle at a funeral

by youngghosts



Series: quakerider + take me to church [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ghost Amnesia, Hurt/Comfort, Open Ending, Serial killer mention, death mention, ghost au, i might turn this into a whole fic if there’s enough interest, so uh let me know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngghosts/pseuds/youngghosts
Summary: His mother would always tell him that the eyes of the dead carried the most sorrow you’d ever feel in your life.He had to agree.— ghost au.
Relationships: Robbie Reyes/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Series: quakerider + take me to church [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134662
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	she’s the giggle at a funeral

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment in a series of one shots based on Hozier’s Take Me To Church. They won’t be posted in lyrical order at all, and will be uploaded sporadically, but I’ll get there!
> 
> I’ve been tempted to expand on this and turn it into a full fic, but I have a whole list of projects, so let me know if you’d be interested in an expanded au? 
> 
> — reuploaded due to formatting issues

“Eli.....was....a good man. One of the best men I’ve ever known.” 

Daisy snorted from her spot next to him, “He’s reeeaaally laying it on thick there, isn’t he?” 

Robbie didn’t glance in her direction. He didn’t even acknowledge that he heard her. 

Of course he heard her. And she knew it. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me sit here through this creep’s funeral.” 

He continued to try to ignore her, swallowing down whatever was filling his throat. (For a second he thought it was bile. He couldn’t be too sure.) 

“God, it’s almost like they knew huh? Kinda like they’re overcompensating.” 

He dug his nails into his skin. He really didn’t want to be here, and he didn’t want her to be here. But he couldn’t just not go to his Uncle’s funeral. 

He really wished he hadn’t gotten into his fucking car. 

“Can you please keep your comments to yourself until we get back home?” He hissed a whisper in her direction. 

A couple beats passed. For a moment he thought she didn’t hear him. 

Of course she heard him, “Robbie, are you kidding? He fucking murdered me. And you want me to sit here through the living jerking off the memory of him?” 

He wondered for a split second if he was being an unreasonable asshole. He thought that he probably was, but then again, there’s no handbook for dealing with the ghost of the final girl your -previously idolized- uncle murdered. 

Yeah, no, he was being an asshole. 

But then again, things have been an overwhelming whirlwind of bullshit, and he needed a break.

“Please.” 

She looked at him pointedly. He forgot not to look back. 

His mother would always tell him that the eyes of the dead carried the most sorrow you’d ever feel in your life. 

He had to agree. 

“I’m still laughing at the bullshit,” she gave him a determined look- but sounded like a grumpy child, and in any other situation he would’ve smiled. 

——

The funeral dragged on- the hours turned into what felt like centuries. Everything they said went in one ear and out the other, the only thing resonating with him was the sound of Daisy’s laughter echoing throughout the church. 

He expected for Daisy to go off the second they got into the car, but was met with silence. 

The silence carried on far into the night, even after Gabe got settled in to sleep. 

The silence was deafening, him having gotten used to her constant chatter and questions over the past couple of weeks. 

She needed her space, though, and he respected that. 

It was the least he could give her. 

It was the least he would give her for the rest of his life. 

He hand washed the dishes that night. 

The dishwasher would’ve been too loud, he tells himself. 

(In reality, he needed some space, too.)

——

He was really going to regret this. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She was in her normal spot, lying down on his bed facing the wall. It was freezing, but he didn’t know if that was the air conditioner’s fault or hers. 

She made a snorting noise. If he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought she was crying. 

“Do you?” 

He tried not to let the slight underlying accusation in her voice upset him.

“No, but I will if it makes you feel better.” He sat on the other side of the bed. His body felt too heavy- as if he wasn’t sinking into the mattress but the ground itself. 

He sat in the silence as he tried to pull what remained of himself together. 

——

It felt like hours had passed -it couldn’t have been more than two- when Daisy finally responded. 

“Do you think they ever found my body?” 

She sounded so quiet, even with their tie magnifying her voice in his head. 

It was as if he could barely hear her. 

“I- I don’t know.”

He heard a sniff from her side of the bed, “Do you......do you think I had a funeral? Do you think people would’ve shown up?”

Robbie didn’t even get a chance to consider the weight of what she was saying before she spoke again. 

“Do you think anyone cared?”

He felt too heavy again, like he was taking up too much space. “Yeah, people cared.” 

She turned back towards the bed to face the ceiling. Wiping away tears he couldn’t be sure were there, she asked, “How would you know?” 

“Because who wouldn’t care about you?” He realized how much he meant it. He realized how this extremely loud girl had grown on him over the course of two weeks. 

He cared about her. Of course he did. 

Who wouldn’t?

“Why do you think I’m here, Robbie?” She hadn’t looked away. Hadn’t blinked. 

He’d considered the possibilities before while she was asleep (do ghosts sleep?) and he was lying awake at night. Atoning for the sins of his relatives? Most likely. A curse? More interesting- less likely. 

“I don’t…..I don’t know. You won’t tell me.” 

She finally turned to look at him. 

Don’t look in her eyes. 

“I haven’t told you because I don’t know.” 

What?  
“What?” 

“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know how to leave. I don’t know...anything. I don’t even know who I am.” 

So many questions were running through his brain. 

“You said your name was Daisy,” it wasn’t a question as much as a slightly accusatory statement. 

Because a ghost who lies is exactly what he needs right now. 

“I know some things,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He guessed that to ghosts it was. 

“I know my name is Daisy. I don’t know what my last name is. I know I’m half Chinese- I don’t know who my parents are. I don’t know what their names are. I don’t know where I live. I don’t know-” 

“You don’t know specifics.” 

“I- I don’t know how the specifics work. I know my dad hates pineapple pizza, I know that we never missed a baseball game and every time I ordered the same thing- but I don’t remember anything that actually matters.” 

He turned to face the ceiling with her. He couldn’t imagine forgetting about Gabe. 

He couldn’t imagine forgetting his mother. 

He was talking before he could think anything through- something, he noticed, happened way more when Daisy was around. 

“We’re going to find them.” 

“What?” She turned back to look at him, and he made an effort to not look back at her. She was staring at him like he grew a second head. 

And she’s the ghost. 

“We,” he sucked in a deep breath, “are going to find your family. We’re going to get you home.”


End file.
